Pursuit of the Panther
by jimmiejamz
Summary: Solitary, opportunistic, patient. The Panther sits highest on the food chain, casting down on those below. He watches, stalking with great precision and care, waiting for the right moment to strike, to execute the killing blow. The perfect predator. She was his target, he was hunting her down. She had no idea how much she would love it. Warning: Heavy BDSM and explicit D/s themes.
1. Ch 1 - Control

**Author's Note:** _This story is loosely inspired by the 2002 film, 'Secretary', otherwise known as the film '50 Shades of Grey' wanted to be. Though I don't really need to say it, the story is AU, taking place during the sixth year when Hermione becomes of legal age, but will probably mirror the events within the original story further down the line._

 _As with all my fics, there will be no regular update schedule because I'm a lazy bastard who works off of random energy spikes and I believe that the best writing comes naturally in its own time. However, I am really excited about this project and am eager to see where it goes, and hope that you will too._

 _Enjoy!_

 **~jj**

 ** **Warning:** **Strong adult themes, offensive language, student/teacher relationship, underage, possible violence.****

 **Disclaimer:** **I own nothing except my own imagination. And a couple cats...**

 ** _This story is not intended to showcase the BDSM community as a whole, rather display the interesting and specific dynamic between two characters who naturally fit the role of Dominant and Submissive and their interaction with each other._**

* * *

She had done it. She had passed everything with flying colours. Nine 'Outstandings' and only one 'Exceeded Expectations' in Defence Against the Dark Arts. She was free to choose any subject she wanted for her sixth year and explore any path she could imagine. The future was at her fingertips, just waiting to be grasped.

So why did she feel so bland?

Hermione lay awake in bed revisiting her O.W.L. exam results for the umpteenth time with the same thoughts raced around her head.

There was no true euphoria, no rush of relief—nothing but the same concern she always had over success. It was like nothing had really changed. After all the work, all the endless hours of study, the blood, sweat, and tears __this__ was supposed to be the moment it all became worth it, the saving grace. But it wasn't. The fear, the worry, the threatening panic failure all remained. She had done well, incredibly well, but it didn't feel like anything had changed for her mind was still plagued of the past mistakes she had made. She felt like everything she achieved hadn't meant anything.

"What is going on with me?" Hermione whispered quietly to herself.

The fifth-year Hogwarts examinations had taken place nearly six weeks ago. Hermione had never let a day go by without recounting her exact errors and minor miscalculations, convincing herself that she would fall short of everyone's grand expectations. Every time she was alone her thoughts consumed her, burying her underneath the weight of possible failure and the disappointed gazes from her professors, her friends, her parents, herself. But she didn't fail, far from it, she had done better than everyone else in her year. Maybe it was because she still had her N.E.W.T classes and exams to focus on, a much more intensive ordeal, and her body didn't want her to slip and slack off from studying.

Regardless, the same bizarre sensation followed her from the moment she read the letter, to now—the first day of classes, over a full week later. She had never seemed to figure out how to shake the feeling.

"I just don't get it..." she said to herself, turning on to her side and peering through the long red curtains of her four-poster bed.

The dorm was dark with only small slivers of sunlight peaking through the covered windows, indicating it was early morning. Knowing she wasn't getting any more sleep, Hermione slipped out of bed and dressed in her school robes, tiptoeing around Lavender's bed as she left.

Exiting the Gryffindor common room, Hermione took comfort in the completely deserted corridors. She took her time descending the stone stairs, footsteps echoing lightly off the walls, as she made her way to the Great Hall. Again the area was void of people, though as Hermione took a seat at one of the long wooden tables a sudden platter of food appeared in front of her. She silently thanked the House Elves below for preparing her meal before grabbing two slices of toast, a spoonful of scrambled eggs and a small glass of pumpkin juice. Her stomach rumbled as she picked up her fork, however, it soon dropped as a formal voice called from behind.

"Miss Granger."

Hermione swivelled around in her seat, her vision filled by a long stretch of black fabric standing directly in front of her to the point where she had to lean back in order to see the stern and sallow face of Professor Snape.

"Good morning, professor," she greeted politely.

Snape did not respond, nor did he take a step back. He simply stared down at her with his customary stony expression, eyes dark and mysterious as Hermione tried to figure out his intent.

"Ah," she said, fidgeting slightly. "H-How are you, professor?"

"Very well, Miss Granger," Snape responded smoothly, still gazing at her with a calculating look.

Hermione had never seen Snape act so... Openly. He was absent of his seemingly permanent sneer and judgemental eyes, trading them for a curiously different personality entirely. Those less familiar with Snape's usual impression would call it friendly, but she knew better. It was unnerving, unsettling. What had caused him to be in such a good mood? Whatever it was, Hermione had a bad feeling about it.

"How were your results, Miss Granger?" Snape asked.

"What?" Hermione replied, struck dumb by the question.

Never in a million years would Hermione ever think Snape would strike up a normal— God forbid a _pleasant_ conversation with her. There had to be a sinister explanation for this odd behaviour, she knew there had to be.

"Your exam results," Snape repeated with uncharacteristic patience. "How did you go, Miss Granger?"

"Oh!" she squeaked in realisation.

This was it. He wanted to gloat about her failure at achieving a perfect ten 'Outstandings'. He was here to mock her, she could tell, he already knew and just wanted her to be forced to say it. Say that she couldn't live up to the expectations of those around her, how she let down Professor McGonagall, the Headmaster, her friends. Say that she wasn't as good as she pretended to be.

Swallowing her frustration she answered stiffly, "Fine, professor."

"Just..." He paused with purpose. "Fine, Miss Granger?"

"Yes," she said quickly, desperately hoping he wouldn't push it any further as she wasn't prepared to deal with this level of aggravation this early on in the day.

"I heard otherwise, Miss Granger." Snape loomed over her, black hair falling forward and framing his features.

 _ _'Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it,'__ Hermione chanted inside her head as Snape's face came closer, halting when he was nearly directly over her head.

"I heard," he continued slowly, deliberately. "That you managed nine 'Outstandings' in your exams. Would you truly consider that as just 'fine', Miss Granger?"

"No," she said, her tone nothing but a breath of air.

"No what?" Snape questioned with a raised eyebrow expectantly.

"No, professor," Hermione corrected, deathly still and desperate to not to lose her temper.

"Very good," Snape murmured, lips barely moving. "Now I just wanted to—"

"If you're just going to make fun of me, go on and get it over with!" Hermione exploded, throwing her arms up aggressively. "No point in dragging it out any further! I know what you're trying to do, so just do it already!"

Snape moved faster than Hermione's eyes could follow and grabbed a firm hold of her wrists, saying nothing as she gasped in shock. Her gut churned as she forced herself to look back into the endless black pools staring back at her but was beyond confused to find nothing more than the same cool composure within them. The pair stayed in the strange stance for longer than Hermione would've liked, however, was determined to make Snape move first, for pride if nothing else. Soon her arms began to ache from the lack of blood-flow and she was forced to admit defeat. Wriggling her arms in his solid grip, she was relieved to find that he let them go immediately with no further motion.

"I-I'm sorry, professor," Hermione apologised, dipping her head so that the professor could not see the blush forming on her face. "I must still be a tad stressed out."

"I was going to congratulate your success, Miss Granger," Snape said after a moment.

Hermione's head whipped back up. "Excuse me?"

"Nine 'Outstandings' is a very impressive accomplishment, Miss Granger," Snape explained simply. "You should be proud."

"I'm so... This doesn't... What?" she stuttered helplessly.

"Have a good day, Miss Granger." Snape bowed and stepped away.

Hermione's mind was spinning. What the hell had just happened? She lifted her hands to her face and tried to comprehend the scenario she just experienced, coming up empty-handed at any reasonable and rational reason it had occurred in the first place.

"And Miss Granger?"

Hermione dropped her hands and looked towards the doors.

Snape looked at her with an expression she had never seen on him before. "Do not lie to me again."

" _ _When__ did I...?" Hermione started but trailed off as Snape's robes fluttered around the corner and out of sight.

Snape wanted to congratulate her after all this time? No, that couldn't be. He __was__ _Snape_ , after all, he had no concept of congratulating someone, of being nice, of being a decent human being. No, no, no. Hermione was dreaming, it's the only way this could have come about—the only logical conclusion. Regardless of the ridiculousness of the idea, she decided to pinch herself to make sure she was indeed dreaming resulting in a sharp pain flaring from her left hand and the evidence that this was real.

"What the hell?" She slipped down and let her head bang against the table next to her abandoned plate.

Hermione stayed that way for a while, her mind blank and worn-thin until the distant sounds of sleepy steps steadily grew louder and louder forcing her to pretend everything was normal. She had to wait for Harry and Ron, tell them everything and work together to figure out what was making Snape act so crazy.

 _ _'How sad is it that being polite is a sign of Snape being crazy?'__ _S_ he snickered to herself and picked lightly at her stone cold food.

A full hour passed before the bleary-eyed and messy heads of the two boys stumbled down next to her. Neither of them spoke, focused on either shovelling as much food as possible into their mouth or watching the Slytherin table like a hunting hawk.

"Well good morning to you too," Hermione said sarcastically, rolling her eyes as Ron choked on a sausage.

"Mo'ing, 'Mione," Ron replied, spitting food all over himself.

Hermione stared at him for a moment in minor disgust, then moving on to the second boy at the table. "Good morning, Harry."

Harry didn't even blink as she addressed him.

"Harry," Hermione said more firmly, shaking him lightly on the arm.

"What!" Harry gasped, shaking his head slightly. "Oh, sorry, Hermione."

"Don't tell me you're still fixated on Malfoy?" she asked, folding her arms.

"You can't tell me it isn't suspicious!" he countered hotly.

"Give him a break, Hermione," Ron muttered mindlessly, scooping up a mountain of eggs on to his now empty plate.

Hermione waved dismissively and shook her head, desperate to share her news. "I really need to tell you both about the most insane thing that just—"

"He's not here!" Harry huffed. "Why isn't he here? Where is he going? What is he doing?"

"Are you going to listen to me?" Hermione snapped angrily.

"Sorry, Hermione." Harry rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. "Really, I am. I'm just __certain__ that Malfoy is a—"

"Shh!" Hermione slapped her hand over Harry's mouth. "Don't go spreading that around, Harry. It's incredibly dangerous and, not to mention, without any substantial evidence!"

"Hermione, you __saw__ it!" Harry argued.

"I don't know __what__ I saw," she admitted sharply. "It could have been anything."

"But it __wasn't__ ," he cried. "It wasn't just __anything__ , Hermione please stop being in denial about this."

"Ron!" She turned and smacked the red-headed boy on the back. "Help me please!"

Ron coughed and swallowed deeply. "Right, uh, I have to agree with Hermione, mate."

Harry threw his head back in annoyance. "Oh, come on!"

"Thank you, Ron." Hermione smiled sweetly at the boy, making him turn pink.

"Y-Yeah," Ron continued. "You're blowing this a little out of whack here, Harry. I mean, it's only Malfoy. How much trouble could that weedy little bastard cause, anyway?"

Harry seethed and took a bite out of toast, refusing to meet either of his friend's gazes.

"Now can I finally tell my story?" Hermione asked with a note of impatience.

"Go ahead," Harry mumbled, drinking a large gulp from his goblet.

Hermione described the encounter with Snape with riveting spirit, though her heart deflated as the boys looked unimpressed by the end of it.

"So Snape's a manipulative cock?" Harry shrugged. "What's new there?"

"But..." Hermione's voice faded.

"Look, Mione," Ron said, placing his hand over hers. "Snape's just trying to fuck with you. He is and will __always__ be a complete cunt. Don't kid yourself by thinking otherwise."

"You're right," she said in a small voice of embarrassment. "Of course you're right, I don't know what I was thinking..."

"What a twat move though," Ron carried on, squeezing her hand a bit too tightly. "Targeting you before classes even start! Absolute dickhead."

"Yeah..." she finished weakly.

Hermione couldn't help but notice the difference between Ron's and Snape's grip, the boy's hand currently hot and sweaty while the professor's were cool and dry—not as unpleasant as she would've once thought. Her hand was now starting to tingle to the point of numbness, and her mind went back previously to when her arms were held in a much more comfortable manner despite the awkward angle.

 _ _'He couldn't hurt me, I'm a student,'__ she rationalised to herself. __'Of course, he wouldn't risk the possibility of bruises or any physical harm, just mental and emotional__ _ _damage__ _ _... As usual.'__

She flexed her fingers and tugged her hand from Ron's, hiding it under the table on her lap as she soothed it with her other hand. Her mind wandered as her fingers rubbed circles on her skin, zoning out of Harry's revived obsessive rambling and Ron resumed to stuff face like a wild animal.

This was the weirdest year of her life so far. Between the empty feeling of her exam results, Snape's new level of borderline abuse, her conflicting feelings for Ron, and Harry's fanatical theories on Malfoy all piling on over the course of a week, Hermione was ready to throw in the towel even before the first lesson of the term. She just wanted to go back to bed, to curl up into a ball and let the world pass her by but her stubborn determination would never allow her to give up so easily. Exhausted and confused, she stayed stuck in her seat as both boys continued on without her in their respective tasks.

By the time she snapped back to reality, students all around were pouring out of the hall with a frantic pace.

"Oh shit, we're gonna be late." Harry rose from his seat and pulling Ron away from yet another plate of food.

"Really?" Hermione looked around and gasped in surprise. "Yes let's go—Ron, drop it! We've got to get going."

Ron gave her a sour look and dropped a handful of food back on to the table.

"Oh shut it," Hermione snapped, standing and ushering the boys out of the hall from behind.

"It's Defence, right?" Ron asked Harry once they were outside in the corridor.

Harry made a noise of agreement. "I can only imagine how Slughorn will be. Regardless, there's no way he'd be any worse than __her__."

Hermione's eyes flicked to Harry's left hand, tracing the thin white scars their former Defence Against the Dark Arts professor inflicted on him. She reached over and squeezed it gently making Harry jump a bit before turning and giving her a warm smile. Out of the corner of her vision, she noticed Ron's face darken and quickly released Harry. The group continued to walk to the classroom in silence, meeting up with already formed bunches of Slytherins and Gryffindors glaring hatefully at each other and pockets of blue Ravenclaws and yellow Hufflepuffs chatting quietly to one another.

Harry clutched at Hermione, dragging her closer towards him and digging his nails into her as he hissed harshly into her ear.

"There he is!"

Hermione bit down her anger as Harry jabbed over towards Malfoy standing on the other side of the hallway, flanked by a gushing Pansy Parkinson and a bored Blaise Zabini—his usual thugs, Crabbe and Goyle, nowhere to be seen. She resisted the urge to slap him on the face as Harry was nearly frothing at the mouth at the sight of the other boy. She pried his fingers off her, sighing at the marks he left and gave him a deadpan gaze. His eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth, only to be abruptly interrupted by the heavy doors of the class flying open in a way similar to the Potions classroom.

When no voice called for them to enter, Hermione's stomach dropped. This was far too similar to their normal Potions lesson and, by Harry's description, Slughorn was jovial if not a slightly arrogant man who Hermione would have expected to greet them warmly and loudly.

"Harry," she whispered. "Are you sure Slughorn is the new Defence teacher?"

Harry's face screwed with confusion. "Well, what the bloody hell else would he be teaching?"

She did not answer him. Ever since Sirius' death, she was cautious about making him upset, both out of compassion for her friend as well as fear. Hermione was deeply afraid whenever Harry got angry, and though he's been much better recently she was still wary of accidentally triggering him.

"Move it already!" Pansy Parkinson's shrill voice sliced through the sudden silence.

"Hag," Hermione heard Ron mutter under his breath and turned around to flash him a grin.

Her gaze on Ron, she did not see the look of sheer rage on Harry's face and could not understand why he swore in a dangerous rumble.

"Fuck no."

She slowly spun back and peered inside the class, her heart deflating into a pitiful puddle as her earlier suspicions came true.

"Oh, __God__..."

Sitting at the front of the room behind a grand black desk was Professor Snape, __former__ Potions Master. He gazed lazily at the students filing in, no emotion flickering on his face as people either scowled or cowered in front of him while they took their seats. The Slytherins had occupied all the ones in the back and there was now a fight for the seats furthest from the front. Unfortunately, due to her shocked state, Hermione missed out on the desk next to Ron as Lavender swiftly took it with triumph on her face. There were only two seats left, both in the front row but on opposite sides of the room.

Harry looked at her, his eyes alight with pure animosity, and she nodded back solemnly. She could not let him suffer at the lone desk settled directly in front of Snape, the risk of his expulsion would be too great as would the risk of him actually attempting to kill the professor. So she took the plunge and inched down the aisle, brushing by Ron who gave her a small sympathetic shrug as she slipped down into her seat.

Snape's eyes locked with Hermione's for the briefest of moments, but it was more than enough time for her to realise that this was going to be a challenge like no other she's faced before.


	2. Ch 2 - Chaos

"Detention, Miss Granger."

Those three words echoed like a bomb, though were spoken in a voice no higher than a whisper.

Hermione dropped her wand, staring at the collapsed form of her duelling partner, Pansy. Her legs were like water, wobbling and waving, as she tried to recover from the particularly nasty Jelly-Legs curse Hermione threw at her.

They were supposed to be practising non-verbal spells, casting a counter-charm without uttering a single incantation, as they had been doing every lesson since the first. Snape was incredibly strict on students muttering charms under their breath, always able to identify those that thought they were in the clear. But Hermione couldn't even try to cover her words as they left her mouth with such a high impact it halted all other noise in the room. Eyes glued to her like they were watching a train-wreck. Slytherins smirked, Gryffindors gaped but she did not focus on a single other person other than the figure at the front—Snape.

Pansy went too far. She had mocked Hermione for her lack of skills, pushed her, angered her to the point where she screamed the first thing that came to her mind and a bold stream of blue bolted from the tip of her wand, hitting the other girl dead in the chest and making her immediately fall on to her face.

Hermione had never felt so turbulent, so unstable. During only the first couple of days, her mind had already been twisted and bent by the sheer amount of work she needed to keep up with her seven N.E.W.T classes while the boys were content practising for the upcoming Quidditch try-outs and dedicating no added time for study. Despite her pockets of free time spent staying up for hours at a time reading book after book and writing note after note, she could not figure out a way to keep up. It was as if her brain had decided she was finished long before her body was ready to quit.

Right now, her legs felt like they were going to turn to the gelatinous mess Pansy was in. The girl's lower half resembled more like liquefied skin bags as she flapped them uselessly against the floor. She continued to scream her head off as the sickening slaps of her limbs echoed through the room, though all Hermione could hear were the words the other girl spat at her just moments ago—how she was pathetic, a loser, a failure, destined for nothing but licking mud of other people's shoes. Hermione wouldn't need Veritaserum to admit cursing Pansy felt better than a million 'Outstandings'.

"Mr Malfoy, take Miss Parkinson to the Hospital Wing immediately," Snape ordered calmly.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione spotted Ron hunched over and red-faced, barely able to contain his violent roars of laughter.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley," Snape said in the same aloof tone. "For sheer lack of empathy towards your fellow peers."

Ron turned to hide his face, obviously not shaken by the loss of points while Harry slipped beside Hermione.

"Good one."

He winked at her before moving past and joining Neville who looked utterly mortified at Pansy's misshapen body.

"Five more points from Gryffindor, Potter," Snape called out swiftly. "For an equal lack of compassion as Weasley."

 _'Is there anything he_ doesn't _notice?'_ Hermione groaned internally.

Harry's eyes flicked to a shade darker than their usual light green and Hermione had to pray that he wouldn't explode and lose even more house points, or worse. Their eyes met and for a moment Hermione was convinced he was going to do exactly that, but Harry merely dropped his head and pinched his nose in frustration.

"Miss Granger, you will stay after class to hear the details of your punishment." Snape's eyes lingered until she managed a small nod, then left her as they swept the room.

"Why, may I ask, has everyone stopped practising?" Snape searched the room for an answer. "Are you all suddenly capable of casting spells without speaking?"

He pointed his wand at Neville and the boy nearly shrieked as his blond hair darkened and turned thick, soon resembling heavy antlers like one on a great stag.

"Apparently not," Snape finished, flicking his wand again and turning Neville's hair back to normal. "Get back to work."

Time dragged for Hermione, now partnering with a terror-stricken Ernie Macmillan who refused to let her attempt any non-verbal technique leaving her stuck as a practise dummy. Harry and Ron stood nearby, trying only half-heartedly to curse one another without words, and watched her carefully like they were ready to step in if Ernie miraculously managed to succeed in striking her. By the time the class came to an end, Hermione's nerves had built up so much she hadn't noticed as Ron nearly tackled her in excitement.

"Hey, Hermione! You're gonna be there at the try-outs to watch me, right?" he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.

Hermione blinked in confusion "Sorry, Ron. What did you say?"

He threw his hands up. "Tomorrow—Quidditch trails! You still coming?"

"Sure," she said dismissively, chewing her bottom lip nervously as she waited for everyone to leave.

"Great! I'm so excited!" Ron beamed and practically skipped away.

His smile left Hermione's heart swell though it rapidly deflated as she noticed she was almost completely alone with Snape.

When the last student shuffled out of the room Hermione drew a shaky breath and walked over to the front table. The professor was seated, back straight while he stared down at a piece of parchment with a long feather quill dancing in the air as he scrawled across it. She approached the table, peering down at his carefully crafted writing, and waited. Snape did not move, nor acknowledge her at all, continuing to write instead. Hermione felt steadily uneasy, tapping her fingers together as the sound of the quill scratching along the page irritated her ears.

Snape shuffled a couple of papers, still not looking up. "You will serve your detention tomorrow evening in my office."

"What time exactly would that be, professor?" Hermione asked timidly.

"After dinner," he replied vaguely.

"O-K..." Hermione hesitated, staying rooted to the spot as a gut feeling told her he wasn't finished with her yet.

"You do understand why you are being punished, Miss Granger?" Snape questioned, his eyes remaining focus downward.

"Yes, professor," Hermione answered quietly.

Snape flipped the paper over, placing it neatly on the small pile and grabbed another. "And why is that, Miss Granger?"

"Because," she said slowly, unsure why Snape was asking. "I attacked another student."

"No," he stressed firmly. "It was because you did not follow the instructions. You were told _not_ to use verbal spells yet you did so anyway. You broke my rule."

Hermione hated the way her skin flushed hotly, shame filling her like a balloon as she watched him place the quill down and finally address her face to face.

"I do not like it when people disobey me, Miss Granger." His eyes more imposing than ever. "You will do well not to make a habit of it in the future, or else the consequences will be much more severe."

She gulped and nodded quickly.

"Good," he hummed in a low voice that shook her insides. "You may go now, Miss Granger."

Not needing to be told twice, she bowed awkwardly and bade Snape a quick farewell before bolting from the room. She was disappointed to see that the boys hadn't waited for her, but soon realised that they must have gone to their class. Groaning, Hermione broke into a jog as she battled the hoard of students to get to her next class on time.

She did not get to see Harry or Ron for the rest of the day as Defence Against the Dark Arts was their only shared lesson. She enjoyed the solitude more than she expected as it gave her the freedom to think uninterrupted, though the little joy she gained left her almost immediately while the hours passed. The homework seemed to triple by the end of the day, her bag bulging with books and rolled scrolls of information making her back strain as she carried it up the stairs of Gryffindor tower. It was pitch black by the time she reached the top, the Fat Lady dead asleep and scolding her for being late before letting her through.

There were only two people left in the common room as she climbed through the portrait hole. Illuminated by a heated flame, she recognised the silhouette of Harry hunched over a desk while Ron was lounging sleepily on the overstuffed chair Hermione favoured. When the boys realised she had entered, they instantly perked up as if electrocuted.

"Hey!" Ron greeted, hastily wiping a dribble of drool off his chin.

"What is he going to make you do?" Harry questioned harshly. "Do you have to gut rats and harvest their organs? Or scrub the floor with nothing but a toothbrush?"

"I don't know," Hermione said tiredly, dropping her bag on the floor and moving towards the fireplace to let the warmth cover her like a blanket. "All he said was to go to his office after dinner tomorrow."

"Cocksucker!" Harry barked suddenly.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, almost stepping back into the flames in shock of the outburst.

"How dare he even give you detention in the first place!" Harry continued, ignoring Hermione's look of horror. "He's wasting your time, trying to make you fall behind in class or some evil shit like that!"

"You saw Pansy," she reasoned. "He had every right to. I'm just glad he didn't take a hundred points off as well."

"Wouldn't put it past the wanker to do it later tonight," Harry grumbled.

"You _are_ still going to the trials right?" Ron demanded, more harshly than he intended as he instantly softened his expression. "I mean, you'll be my good luck charm! And I'm gonna need all the luck I can get if I want to be Keeper."

Hermione turned, smiling weakly at him.

"There were like five other people muttering under their breath," Harry argued angrily.

Hermione's eyebrow raised. "Were there really?"

"Well... I _thought_ I heard a mumble or two..." He looked away and rubbed his neck.

"Don't worry about it," she said softly, patting him gently on the shoulder. "I've survived this far with Snape, I'm sure I can handle this."

"Hermione, have you ever actually had a detention with that greasy bastard before?" Harry asked bluntly.

"No," she admitted. "But how bad could it be?"

That was the worst thing she could say as Harry listed off each and every punishment he served under Snape, delving into unnecessary detail and vulgar insults while he rambled on. Hermione let him talk as she tried to figure out how to stagger all her homework and study around her lost evening. Fears of her already precious little time being eaten away by her detention with Snape crept into her mind. How will she gain that time back? She will have to skip dinner that night, it should be enough time to compensate—she could not afford to fall behind any further.

Drained by the demands of the day, Hermione decided to go to bed. She wished both boys a goodnight and climbed the stairs leading to the dormitory. Both Lavender and Pavarti asleep, she was able to undress and change into her sleeping clothes without interruption. Settling under the crisp covers and pulling the curtains around her bed, she closed her eyes and met sleep instantly.

The next day Hermione felt herself shift into autopilot as Harry and Ron droned without pause about the Quidditch try-outs later that day. Neither had seemed to care about her lack of interest, preferring to use her like a wall to air their thoughts out than a friend or actual human being. She didn't mind, however, as she was planning on how to fit in all her required study around both the trials she was forced to attend as well as her detention. She deduced that the only way she would stay on schedule was to skip every meal of the day, not just dinner, and rely on light snacks while reading, something she had become accustomed to after preparing for her O.W.L.s. She shuddered as she thought of the damage she was doing to her body, but couldn't persuade herself to not do so.

It was only the end of the second week but the professors all treated the time as if the examinations were happening already. Hermione silently resented the boys and their ability to ignore their responsibilities, especially Ron. The added stress of her Prefect duties also piled heavily on top though appeared to completely missed by Ron. As the two Gryffindor Prefects, they were supposed to be a role model, a rock for the house to gravitate towards, but Hermione felt as if she could barely help a first-year with simple directions. She loved her position as Prefect, it gave her the sense of gratification she's always been yearning for and made her feel important, however lately, it had been nothing but a detriment to her health. But she was a stubborn and prideful Gryffindor, typical in all regards, and would gladly give herself to those in need—even if it meant she was destroyed in the process.

After being assigned three ten inch essays, two detailed reports, and one hour-long search for potion ingredients found in obscure nooks around the school, Hermione was ready to drop where she stood. Unfortunately, she had promised the boys to watch the Quidditch trails and wasn't in the mood to put of with their incessant whingeing if they spotted her absent. So, she forced herself to walk down towards the giant grass pitch at the bottom of the hill. Echoes of _"Over here, to me!"_ and _"Go right—no left—your other left!"_ surrounded Hermione while she climbed the impossibly steep stairs and sat in the first row of the spectator's area, trying to make herself known to either Harry or Ron. She figured as long as they knew she came, she would be able to sneak away and catch a couple more hours of study before serving her detention.

Alas the boys did not notice her, nor even bother to look towards the stands, and Hermione was too exhausted to head back up to the castle so sat back and watched.

Harry was a very good leader, she noticed, as he held himself high and seemed to be at ease telling people what to do. He effectively directed the players as they flew around her head and it was obvious that the team truly respected his input. Ron on the other hand... A great stab of pity welled in Hermione's chest as the red-headed boy fell off his broom twice before the whistle even blew. Her eyes shifted to the other end of the field, landing on a small figure of someone she couldn't determine floating in front of the three golden hoops. Whoever they were, they seemed much more impressive than Ron. Nose-dives, sharp turns, and even the occasional run up the pitch with the ball in hand—they made a solid candidate for the Keeper position.

Hermione pushed the rational side of her aside as she drew her wand and held it down by her legs. The moment a player got near them and went for a shot, she whispered a Confundus Charm with all her remaining concentration. The Keeper shook their head and flew away from the hoop they were once guarding, allowing the Quaffle to easily slip through. Cheers rang through Hermione's ears as her gaze went back to Ron who was flying in circles out of what she assumed was joy. Smiling to herself she leaned back and let her eyes glaze over, unfocused, watching red blurs zip and glide without further concern. Hopefully, her act had given Ron the confidence he needed to secure a spot on the team. If not, she didn't really know what else to do.

Thankfully, her influence was exactly what he needed as not a single ball got past Ron.

Before she knew it, the trails were over and Ron was speeding towards her with such speed he nearly flew head-first into the stands.

"Hermione! Hermione! Hermione!" he screamed as he hovered in the air.

"Yes, Ronald?" Hermione asked, though judging by the boy's tone she already knew the answer.

He swooped down and jumped off on to the bench Hermione was sitting on, plopping down next to her and grabbing her shoulders. "I'm the new Keeper! I'm on the team, Hermione! Can you believe it!"

"Wow!" She smiled widely, letting the shake her lightly as he bounced with excitement. "That's great, Ron!"

"Yeah!" Ron gasped. "McLaggen was so _pissed_ when Harry told him he wasn't good enough. Did you see him wander off and leave the goal completely? Did you see? Hermione, did you—?"

"Yes, I did!" Hermione interrupted with minor frustration at his childish behaviour.

"What an _idiot!_ " Ron continued, unfazed. "And a complete arse! He tried to have a go at Harry but Ginny got to him before I could and slapped him across the face! She can be really scary sometimes... But don't tell her I said that!"

Hermione rolled her eyes but allowed a smirk to grow on her face.

"Anyway!" He waved his hands erratically. "I'm so happy you came, Hermione. I _told_ you, didn't I? You're my good luck charm!"

He winked at her, making her skin feel oddly heated as she giggled lightly behind her hand.

"Ron!"

The pair looked over and saw Lavender Brown descending the steps two at a time, her eyes glued only to Ron.

"Ron!" she called out again as she drew near.

"Oh." Ron tugged at the collar of his shirt. "Hi, Lavender."

"Ron you were absolutely _amazing_ ," the girl gushed. "I watched the whole thing, unlike Hermione here."

Hermione gave her a quizzical look as Ron faced her, his joyous expression dropping slightly.

"I had trouble finding some Wormwood for our next potions class," she explained with a small shrug.

Ron's face switched from disappointment to slight shame as his head dropped a fraction. "You wouldn't happen to—?"

"To get extra for you since you were so preoccupied with Quidditch to bother with the homework?" Hermione finished for him. "Yes I did, I got enough of everything for you and Harry both—even if he's still determined to use that stupid book of his."

His face split into a relieved grin and he took both her hands in his own. "You take such good care of me, y'know."

Forcing her breathing to remain steady her scoffed playfully. "Of course I do!"

Lavender cleared her throat, breaking their contact almost instantly as Ron shuffled a couple inches away. He looked around nervously, making Hermione wonder why he was acting so indifferently all of a sudden when Harry dropped down as Ron had done and joined the conversation. For some unknown reason, every time she tried to catch his eyes Ron would face a different way entirely as if to pretend she wasn't there. Anger took over her mind, giving her a renewed sense of strength while he chatted to Harry and Lavender on their way back to the castle.

 _'Maybe he doesn't feel anything towards me after all...'_ she thought, dejected and annoyed.

It was nearly completely dark by the time they made it inside the building, indicating that dinner was almost over.

"Damn..." Hermione muttered, stopping just short of the doors leading to the Great Hall.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" Harry asked softly, tugging her forward lightly.

"I've got..." She gave a quick glance to Lavender, thankful the girl wasn't paying any attention to her. "Remember? With Snape..."

"Surely he can't make you miss dinner?" Harry said gruffly, his whole demeanour changing at the mention of the professor.

"Well he told me to come _afterwards_ and seeing that the sun has set, that would be now." She watched him closely as his fists turned into tight balls of anger.

"What time will you be back?" he said with more control than Hermione expected.

"No clue," she replied. "Probably around 12 o'clock. It is the end of the week, so he most likely won't worry about me staying up so late."

"If you're not back in the common room by exactly midnight, I'm coming down to punch him in the cock," Harry threatened darkly.

"Harry," Hermione groaned. "You really need to stop saying things like that! It's incredibly childish and not to mention worthy of losing house points—if not instant detention."

"I don't care." Harry folded his arms. "He deserves it."

Hermione just held her hands up in defeat as she said goodnight Harry, having seen Ron and Lavender enter the hall without a word.

The inviting scent of food swam into her nose, making her belly ache in desire. She had only eaten a couple pieces of toast for breakfast and an apple as a snack while traversing the school during her search for potion ingredients and was very tempted to be late to her detention in order to fetch a bread roll from inside the hall. Realising that she would basically be signing her future at Hogwarts away if she did, she prayed silently that her raging stomach would calm itself and remain quiet throughout the duration of the time spent in Snape's office while she walked away.

Standing in the dank dungeons, she closed her eyes and knocked on the dark wooden door.


	3. Ch 3 - Detention and Discipline

Hermione waited outside the door, anxious anticipation chewing her insides as the sound of still silence greeted her. She bit her bottom and knocked again, more forcefully as perhaps the first time was too quiet for the professor to hear clearly. Though again, nothing.

Was she too late? No—impossible, she just watched Harry and Ron enter the hall which was still alive with laughter and chatter. Was she in the right place? Yes, of course, it was one of the few rooms that were actually within the dungeons other than the potions class and, she assumed, Snape's personal quarters. Was today even the right day? She scoffed at herself for even thinking such a pathetic question.

What was going on?

Panic driven thoughts began to leak through Hermione's defences as she tried to piece together strings of information with slight desperation, trying to understand just why he wasn't responding. Doubt mixed with her steadily increasing sense of trepidation. If she had indeed missed her detention, she might get suspended for supposed disregard to school authority. If she was suspended, she could lose her Prefect status. If she lost that privilege, she would never be Head Girl. If she wasn't Head Girl then the dreams she harboured since aged eleven would vanish into despair and every second spent studying was a moment of her life she threw away.

Small beads of sweat pooled on her hairline as her heart hitched in fear. She was overthinking everything, as she always did... But it didn't stop it from feeling real. Her breath coming in uneven pants, she banged the door with her fist in an attempt to quell her growing concern as well as to make her presence noted.

"At what point will you realise that no one is inside, Miss Granger?"

What remaining air she had in her lungs drained as the dull drawl of Snape's voice met her ears. Hermione closed her eyes tightly and brought her hands to her face. She had gotten so worked up over something as silly as being too early and arriving before Snape. The lack of food matched with the persistent lack of sleep had evidently taken a toll on her.

"It was interesting to observe someone like yourself not come to that verdict," Snape continued casually. "Instead, you resorted to the ways of Potter and Weasley—that is to say mindless brute force."

Hermione flushed and ignored the insult aimed at her friends. "It's been a rather long day, professor."

"Quite," he agreed.

She watched as Snape took a long stride towards her and reached out, wand in hand. Instinctively, she threw herself backwards and hit the door with a soft thud. A flicker of emotion ran over Snape's face but was quickly masked with his ordinary expression. Hermione dropped her gaze slid out of the way as he reached once more, realising he was pointing his wand at the door and not at her, and flicked his wrist in a fluid motion. A soft click emerged and Snape opened the door though stayed outside and gestured to Hermione.

"After you, Miss Granger."

Slightly disorientated at the abrupt request, Hermione shuffled into the dark room. It was just like the rest of the dungeons, shadowy and gloomy with a hint of mystery as her eyes fell upon many jars filled with various objects and animals. It looked exactly as it had done nearly four years prior when she had sneaked in to take the ingredients needed to brew Polyjuice potion. She had a gut feeling that he was aware of that incident since his gaze stuck to her as he entered the office. Settled in front of her was a wide desk, dark and brooding like the rest of the furniture, with a tall leather chair behind it. Snape swished his wand and a smaller chair materialised out of thin air, indicating for her to sit.

Only after she had sat did he move to the desk and mirrored her actions.

"How are you, Miss Granger?" he asked cryptically.

"Fine, professor," she replied, confused as to why he would bother to say such a thing before her punishment.

"I did tell you _not_ to lie to me again, Miss Granger." Snape's features grew dark but not in the way it did towards Harry or Ron or any other student that disappointed him, it was something even more terrifying and formidable.

"W-What do you mean, professor?" Hermione stuttered in a fraction of fright.

"You were not at the feast, you were not at breakfast," he explained in a calculating manner as if telling her the correct procedure to brew a potion. "I can only assume that you have not eaten at all today and judging by your current expression, I am correct in my observation."

Her head inclined an inch.

"And would I also be correct in stating that you have not slept properly since the start of the term? That your body is physically drained from enduring the endless amounts of books you are so determined to carry around all day? How you are neglecting parts of your role as Prefect in order to meet the requirements of your schedule?" Snape finished, each word penetrating to her core.

"There's no way you can know all that!" Hermione squeaked, shaken at the perfect precision of his assessment.

"It's all there." He pointed to her face. "Written like a book."

Her hand gently brushed her cheek in response, as if to feel for any words that may be etched into her skin. If it were so obvious she seemed to be taking such poor care of herself, how did neither Harry or Ron—her two best friends not say a thing? She understood that they had their own lives and own struggles to deal with, however, if _Snape_ of all people could see it, why couldn't they? How couldn't anyone other than Snape see? Was she really that insignificant to most people that they wouldn't even bother to spend a little extra time with her, making sure that she was doing well? Hermione bit back a feeling of betrayal and focused back to the professor.

"This is the second time you have lied, Miss Granger," he repeated coolly. "There will not be a third."

The ominous expression was back and Hermione shrunk in her seat, an unusual sense of wrong-doing building in her gut.

"From this moment forth, you will ensure that you find yourself rectifying your ill-advised choices," Snape commanded in a tone that left no room for discussion. "You will find the time to eat, find the time to sleep and remember to uphold your Prefect duties. You will no longer allow yourself to fall further into this pitiful heap, it is simply pathetic and well below your capabilities. Do I make myself clear, Miss Granger?"

Hermione nodded shakily, rendered mute by his strong words.

He wasn't threatening, nor intimidating, he was merely telling her the truth her and she understood that. She understood that he was completely right, she had let herself plummet beyond her standards of pride and wallow in partial self-despair. What she didn't understand was why the professor made any effort at all. Regardless, she felt an overwhelming urge not to fail... Again.

Snape carefully laced his fingers together, taking a moment before continuing. "You may leave only after you have completed the task to my standards. It may take no less than an hour or the whole night, it is all dependent on you, Miss Granger. However, given the recent admission of wrong-doing, I expect you to be even more vigilant and complaint over the course of the evening."

"What is the task, professor?" Hermione questioned, still faintly flustered.

"You will write lines, Miss Granger," he answered plainly.

" _Lines?_ " she shrieked, mind erased of embarrassment as she leapt from her chair aggressively.

Was he serious? Had it been so easy for him to completely forget what happened the last time a professor in power had issued that particular punishment. Did he really think so little for the physiological welfare of the students under his guide and care? Her head reeled with incredulous thoughts as she stammered through her tirade.

"How dare you suggest that I would ever let you scar me with that disgusting—that _illegal_ blood-quill, I—!"

"Do not insult me," Snape growled quietly, cutting her off in an instant with one look of dangerous fury.

His black eyes were alight and impossible to determine. She had no idea what he was going to do if he would shout, threaten expulsion, or worse, but she was not going to crumble. She had watched as Harry refused to do anything about his abuse, she would not be so proud as to let it pass her by this time.

"Insult _you?_ " she spat with more vitriol than she had ever amounted to before. "Well, you'll have to excuse me, professor, as I find that rather offensive myself since it appears that you have let the horrible things that have happened slip your mind without a second thought of how—!"

"I do _not_ resort to such villainous and barbaric measures, Miss Granger." His voice was as still as death. "I am not the monster you and your friends believe me to be."

Hermione's stomach churned at the tone as she fumbled for words.

Snape was no longer looking at her, nor did it seem like he was paying any attention to her at all. His fingers became rigid and frozen, his breathing exact and even, his face blank and unfeeling as he stared down at the desk. Hermione worried that he would call for a harsher penance or add some laborious and unbearable task to complete in the current session—except, she hadn't done anything wrong. After the events of last year, it was a rational response and, in her opinion, the correct one. A spark of true anger ignited inside her as she wound herself into a tense ball ready to fire back at Snape's inevitable response.

"I do apologise for my inappropriate behaviour, Miss Granger," he said after a moment, eyes on her again. "I did not intend for you to think that I would be so cruel as to use Dark Magic on you. Though I do understand why you may come to that conclusion, I cannot help but be somewhat... Perturbed at the thought."

Guilt surfaced to the forefront of her mind as Hermione watched him.

The sudden display of emotion so rarely seen before forcing her to sit back down out of shock, all rage drained from her body. The mention of the quill used to permanently carve Harry's skin, as well as an unknown number of other students punished at the vile hands of Umbridge, evidently disturbed Snape more than she could ever have imagined. For the first time, Hermione saw him in a light of humanity she thought unimaginable for Snape to possess. Unless she was mistaken, there was a flicker of... Contempt? Regret? Perhaps even... Empathy? Nevertheless, she had spotted a human trait in the otherwise steely and expressionless professor and a string of sympathy shot through her.

"If you feel apprehensive over the nature of the discipline," Snape continued slowly. "Then you are welcomed to say so and I will find a more suitable job for you to complete."

"N-No," Hermione replied, uncertain. "I mean, it's fine, professor—honestly."

Snape gave her his usual penetrating gaze. "You are positive?"

"I just over-reacted a bit," she answered, more sure of herself. "And I'm sorry too, for my response. It was rude and unjustified."

"On that note, I would like to add," Snape said tactfully. "While I do hold remorse over my previous choice of action, I will admit that I was rather disappointed in yours, Miss Granger."

Hermione blinked. "Pardon me?"

"You have failed to restrain your emotions for some time now," he explained. "It is the reason we are here tonight, after all, and I had assumed that it may have been merely a one-off chance. However, I have come to the conclusion that it is not. I would have expected more from you, Miss Granger."

Hermione felt oddly deflated. Throughout her time at Hogwarts Snape had never failed to express rampant displeasure over every little wrong-doing and she had grown accustomed to the feeling of never being able to satisfy the ever increasing requirements for recognition. So why was it suddenly effecting her so strongly now? Maybe it had something to do with her already breaking one of his rules and paying the price now... Or maybe she had grown to care what he thinks of her.

Refusing to spend a lingering second on the sensation, she quickly looked around the room. "I don't have anything to write on or with, professor."

Without a word, Snape flicked his wand and a long roll of parchment floated from one of the many shelves in the corner of the office along with a pot of ink and a short, white quill with a soft tip—completely opposite to the blood-quill described by Harry. Hermione reached over to grab the items from the air, but they quickly settled themselves on the desk opposite her without any need for assistance. Snape stood and walked around toward the door before opening a draw and picking a book from inside before carrying it back, leaning over Hermione as he dropped it neatly beside the ink pot. Her eyes widened as took in the features of the book.

It was thick and robust, a heavily detailed green cover bound on top and the golden words of _Book of Potions, Zygmunt Budge_ were written on a faded purple background. It was the book she used to brew the Polyjuice potion—at least, a copy of it. As if he read her mind, Snape flicked the cover open and immediately flipped to the familiar recipe of the infamous potion. In that exact moment she knew, Snape had been completely aware of her second-year theft this whole time. She had wondered why he didn't use magic as he had done just prior but now realised it was a purposeful move. Subtle confirmation.

Keeping her eyes downcast, she listened as he slowly returned to his seat.

"In front of you is the recipe for Polyjuice potion which consists of a complex and intricate method with unique characteristics," Snape began smoothly. "You are to copy out the text in full."

Hermione looked to the page and her heart dropped. Every other sentence was covered in some sort of stain, from ink blots to blood dribbles to things she didn't even know. The words that were legible, in comparison, were still broken and chipped with age and most of the pages were barely tethered to the spine of the book. It was incredibly difficult to read and nothing like the version she used in the school library. All memory of classic and clear print gone as she stared at the letters like they were some sort of incoherent code. This was going to be a challenging ordeal.

"I will ask that you record the recipe _precisely_ ," he added in a warning tone. "One mistake and you repeat yourself. I will be watching very closely, Miss Granger."

Hermione twitched as Snape finished speaking, ready to dive in head-first but stopped herself as she remembered that an error could cost her anywhere from a minute to an hour. She had to plan her actions carefully if not, risk the possibility of spending the whole night in Snape's office. She did not look up at the professor, feeling his hard gaze on her every move regardless, as she read through the recipe in an attempt to make sense of the odd shapes and symbols of the half-formed words. After a full five minutes of reading merely the first paragraph, she felt confident enough to dip the small quill into the black ink and begin her retribution.

Thankfully, having seen the recipe before, Hermione was able to infer a lot of the words absent or buried under unknown substances but it was still near impossible to get through even the list of ingredients without making a mistake, especially under the hawkish eyes of the professor judging her every move.

During her first try, she had let a nervous drop of ink fall right into the middle of the page. Snape waved his wand and the stain vanished, along with the first three sentences she had spent the past twenty minutes crafting. The next attempt was even more infuriating. After spending an hour tracing each letter perfectly, her mind had abandoned her and left her wondering about the upcoming Charms essay—ten inches due first thing Monday morning. Needless to say, _Aguamenti_ was not a part of the Polyjuice brewing process.

Another word-less spell, another spotless sheet of parchment.

Her most recent trial crawled just as slowly as the rest but with much more success. Nearly completing the first page when an unlucky muscle spasm jerked her hand prematurely, leaving a streaky line crossed through her neatly written words.

"You are holding the quill too tightly."

Hermione gasped, not noticing that the professor had moved and was now standing directly behind her, his voice falling above her like raindrops.

"Your grip is too stiff for this particular task," Snape said, his hand reaching over to tweak the position of the quill. "You need to stay fluid and steady."

She rotated her wrist, trying to relieve the over-used area, and continued writing.

"No." Snape's hand was back, this time plucking the white quill from her entirely. "Like this."

He positioned himself so that he was now standing to her right and placed his hand down on the desk next to hers. The quill was held at a much steeper angle than Hermione had used it, almost completely horizontal, and he mimicked the silky motion of writing. Her eyes fell upon the fixed pattern of the quill, it looked like it was bobbing gently on top a still body of water—tranquil and serene. It seemed so simple, so easy that she felt slightly ashamed for having such a difficult time completing more than the introductory paragraph.

"You are also thinking too much," he murmured calmly, still demonstrating.

"How can you..." Hermione trailed off and placed both hands to her face, knowing the answer was written on her skin.

"You must learn how to direct your full attention to a specific assignment, Miss Granger," Snape proceeded as if she had not said anything. "Learn how to block out everything else that is unnecessary and have a single focus. A split mind is no better than half of one."

Irritation began to bubble in her chest. She had spent her life juggling all her responsibilities, making sure to give them all a section in her thoughts in order to make sure she never forgot an important fact or a significant detail. It was her way of survival and without it... She shuddered to think of how everything would come crashing down around her as a result of her selfish moment of peace. Hermione ignored the professor and reached to grab the quill back from him.

"You will follow what I say, Miss Granger," Snape ordered clearly, drawing his hand back well before she was anywhere within range. "In order to continue, you must master the ability to concentrate. I will not allow you to write another word until you can prove it to me."

Too tried to refuse, Hermione closed her eyes and dropped her head. She tried to envision a filing cabinet, ordered neatly from 'A' to 'Z' with colour coded tabs and individual images pinned to each section. Her face screwed up as the information twisted and entangled with one another, soon impossible to separate the mess inside her head. It was too complicated, she needed to find a way to minimise the effort that went into organising but she didn't know how. The weight of all her knowledge and stress combined began to fall on her, trapping her as she struggled to get free.

A wave of fresh air hit her, shocking her out of her head and back into the room as she blinked the dusky environment into focus.

"Delving further into your thoughts is not the most sensible method for ensuring that you are not lost within them, Miss Granger."

Swallowing deeply, she forced herself to lock eyes with Snape as he lowered his wand.

"Pay more attention to your surroundings, find a physical and tangible object to ground yourself," he instructed not unkindly. "Then you will find yourself able to let go."

Doing as he said, Hermione scanned the left side of the room and trying not to meet Snape's steady stare. All objects basked in the same sleek shadow, it was hard to distinguish one from another. She took her time and evaluated each item hung on the wall or flat on the floor with fierce commitment, determined to finish her detention before dawn.

 _'This is ridiculous,'_ she thought bitterly to herself as her eyes found over a jar of milky blue liquid. _'_ _How can someone be so picky about_ lines _of all things? Maybe Harry was right... Won't he be pleased to hear that.'_

She rolled her eyes and let them blink unfocused on a bland bookcase while she thought of a way to complete her task up to the professor's expectations while also refraining from ripping her hair out in frustration.

"Place your hands on the desk, Miss Granger," Snape stated suddenly.

Hermione couldn't help but let out an exasperated sigh. "Why, professor? How is that going help me?"

"I will forgive your impertinent behaviour, for now, Miss Granger," he said firmly. "It is an hour before midnight and I am assuming that you are slightly weary."

"Slightly!" She scoffed, unable to contain her displeasure yet again.

Snape raised his eyebrow and tilted his chin upward—a warning. "I will not tolerate it a third time, Miss Granger. I will never tolerate _anything_ a third time. Remember that."

Hermione felt somewhat silly over having to lay her hands out on the surface of the table like a child but, knowing not to push her luck any further by testing Snape's rule yet again, did so without complaint. The first thing she noted was the pleasant and soothing nature of the wood seeping the warmth from her over-heated skin. The second thing she picked up on was the movement of the professor from beside her to behind her once again.

"Every time you feel yourself become distracted, you will stop writing and let your hands rest on the desk until you are able to continue."

Like a car driving over a mile away, his voice was nothing but a quiet rumble. It felt like he was a lot closer than before as if he was positioned directly over her head, the words running along her spine and making her shiver involuntarily. Her breath hitched as she focused back on the sensation of her hands instead of the one down her back, shaking herself free of the strange response with no further thought. She shuffled her hands further apart to take in a new thrill of the cool surface and exhaled deeply. The touch refreshed her body and mind instantly, giving her the drive to finish writing. Knowing that there was an out—a safety-net to catch her before she fell, gave her a boost bigger than she ever would have imagined.

Over the rest of the night, she worked herself to the bone, stopping periodically out of precaution more than a physical need, and was beyond relieved to see that there was only one final sentence for her to copy down. Placing the final full-stop at the end of her last word, she slumped in her seat. She was sure Snape was supporting a self-satisfied smirk on his face but was simply to tried to turn and look at him. The remaining shreds of energy left were to be saved for her journey through the castle and up to her soft, comfortable, warm, inviting bed. She listened only half-heartedly as he walked around to the front of the desk. He did not look remotely worn-out, not a hair out of place or wrinkle on his robes as he stood solid like a statue, envy escaping into her head as he spoke.

"You have done a satisfactory job, Miss Granger." His eyes were mysteriously light, a shift from the colour of common coal to a more refined shade of slate—a slight but striking difference she noted they zoned in on her.

"Thank you, professor," Hermione said with surprising sincerity.

A sense of accomplishment and fulfilment flooded every inch of her insides, similar to what she used to get all that time ago from achieving perfect marks in her essays, potions and general spell-casting techniques. She had missed the rush of success, the shot of pleasure that ran through her veins as she triumphed over a seemingly endless endeavour and was more than happy to have it back, even over something as menial as a detention punishment. It had been so long since she had felt it that she was scared it wasn't going to come back.

"You may leave now." Snape raised his arm to the door. "Sleep well, Miss Granger."

Hermione rubbed her eyes and slowly stood to her feet. As she reached for the handle, however, the door swung open by itself. She looked back, despite her desire to get as far away from the dungeons as possible, and was startled to see Snape had turned, his back now to her as he rolled his neck in an obvious attempt to stretch the supposedly aching the muscles there. Her mind was struggling to make sense of the scene.

 _'Why had he let me go on for so long if he had to endure it too? He's never been one for suffering alongside students—usually just making sure only_ they _did,'_ she mused silently, lingering in the doorway as more questions arose but soon gave up as her legs threatened to collapse.

She left the office with a short farewell and tiptoed her way up to Gryffindor Tower, careful not to wake any sleeping portraits along the way. The Fat Lady had grumbled and cursed while Hermione stepped inside the common room, ignoring the painting completely. She was deeply pleased to see that Harry had not kept his promise to hit the professor for her lateness as he was nowhere in sight. Assuming he was resting blissfully in his own bed, she soundlessly climbed the spiral staircase and slipped inside the dorm room to follow suit.

She sunk down into her bed and smiled faintly, feeling at ease for the first time since the start of the year.


	4. Ch 4 - Midnight Patrol

It was early October and the only thing that had really changed was the early Halloween decorations sprayed all over the castle by over-eager students. Ron had been spending more and more time with Lavender—though complaining about her the moment she was out of the room to anyone who would listen. In the meantime, Harry had become well too pre-occupied with Malfoy's mysterious movements as well as Ginny's new boyfriend to ask about the detention with Snape.

Hermione often found herself thinking back to that night, now nearly a month ago. She could not deny the renewed sense of vitality that had bloomed inside her after the detention. Being completely drained after the intensive yet completely pointless task of exactly printing text from book to parchment had allowed everything to be put into perspective, letting her see exactly where she needed to put her energy towards and where she could relax a bit. It was if she had been smashed to pieces but given the instructions to build a more stable, better version of herself. Snape, however, carried on if nothing had changed, as apathetic and unconcerned as ever, which wasn't at all surprising.

While her life had seemingly faded into the background of her two best friend's lives, it had suddenly become the focal point in seventh year Gryffindor boy Cormac McLaggen, the boy she had cursed at the Quidditch trials allowing Ron to be the new Keeper.

Professor Slughorn, who had ended up being the new Potions Master after Snape had obviously vacated the position, had formed a particularly exclusive group called the Slug Club. No matter your age, house, blood-status, or rivalries—if you were successful, you were invited. Hermione had been to the first two meetings of the year, though she had been so high-strung back then that she couldn't even begin to remember what had happened during them. The only thing she knew for certain was that Ron was right, McLaggen was a complete arse.

Between bragging about how much of a better Keeper he would've made and listing off the immature dares he and his friends had accomplished, including the time he ate poisoned Doxy eggs for a whopping three whole galleons, Hermione could barely gather the energy to tell him to piss off. She didn't often swear but could easily make an exception for the cocky seventh year. However, her inner-pride would never allow herself to sink so low, instead, she removed five points from Gryffindor and five more for every time he would continue talking. Despite almost losing the house a total of fifty-five points within the first two months of the term, McLaggen wasn't getting the hint. Either that or wouldn't take no for an answer—both realities equally irritating for her to handle.

The combined total of the social drama surrounding her had steadily sapped her strengthened spirit. But she was determined to fight back this time, having remembered her purpose once again and remembering how it felt to be so helplessly lost.

Hermione made her way to the Great Hall, weaving fluidly between the straggling students late for class and smiled happily. Today was one of the few days where she forced herself to slow down and enjoy the smaller things, like spending an hour longer in bed and an hour longer at breakfast since she had the morning free. It was also a rare opportunity to spend the whole day with Harry and Ron as they all shared the same classes—something she was deeply looking forward to. She hadn't enjoyed their company in a simple, stress-free environment since... Well, a long time. Though they can be very frustrating at times, she loved them dearly and missed spending time with them.

Walking through the stone doorway, Hermione instantly spotted Ron's bright red hair and walked over to join him. For once, he wasn't attached to the hip by Lavender and seemed over the moon to see her judging by the way he leapt out of his seat.

"Hermione!"

Hermione was suddenly swooped up into a tight hug. She let her head fall on his shoulder for a moment or two, not noticing how she was taking in the faint scent of generic soap through his well-worn robes and blushing slightly.

"Man, I haven't seen you for ages!" Ron said into her hair, his breath shooting down her neck in a hot puff of air.

"Nice to see you too, Ron," she replied calmly, unwinding herself from his grasp to look around him. "Hi, Harry."

Harry, who had been sitting opposite them the whole time, didn't respond. He merely raised an eyebrow and gave her a fleeting nod before continuing to pick at his eggs.

"Lavender's been driving me up the wall lately," Ron grumbled as he sat down, pulling Hermione with him. "She never leaves me alone! Like, I get it, Saturn's rings are in order and makes girls crazy or whatever but I seriously don't give a toss. Never noticed she was this bloody _clingy_."

"So what's going on between you two then?" Hermione asked, forcing her voice to stay steady.

"Nothing!" Ron squeaked. "Why? What did you hear? Cos it's nothing, I swear!"

Harry rolled his eyes and stabbed at a piece of sausage. "Christ..."

Hermione ignored him, heart soaring as she addressed Ron again. "What did I tell you about Divination? Nothing but nonsense and fantasies."

"Yeah!" Ron laughed a little too loudly.

"Seriously, control yourself or I'll whack you in the balls," Harry grumbled.

"Piss off," Ron muttered back as colour flooded his cheeks.

Hermione watched as Harry kicked Ron from under the table and Ron returning the favour while she grabbed a plate and began loading it with pieces of toast, slices of assorted fruit and the odd strip of bacon. By the time she had finished the last scraps of the fruit, the boys had gotten to their feet with fists of food in their hands. Before she opened her mouth, balls of bacon, mounds of scrambled eggs and flying pieces of buttered toast flew into the air and landing on top of each boy.

"For God's sake," Hermione groaned. "Stop it!"

Immediately, Ron straightened and sat down like a trained dog while Harry threw his head back and barked a sharp cry of sardonic laughter.

" _Scourgify_ ," Hermione huffed and waved her wand at each of them in turn.

Harry glared at Ron as he too sat and carried on eating with his head firmly attached to his chest. Hermione wondered what the hell was going on between them. Yes, they had always been childish every now and then but this was something else entirely. Harry was even more on-edge than usual and Ron was acting particularly _friendly_ towards her.

She shook her head in defeat. _'Boys...'_

"Don't forget, Hermione." Ron tapped her excitedly on the shoulder. "We got guard duties tonight—together, remember?"

"Since when have you been so on top of your Prefect responsibilities, Ron?" Hermione asked, amused and surprised.

Ron's eyes flickered over to Harry and though the other boy remained quiet and kept his head down, Hermione swore he whispered something along the lines of _"Pathetic git..."_.

"Since..." Ron trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck in an awkward manner. "I guess, I've just gotten a tad more mature over... Time?"

Hermione thought back to the scene just moments before and folded her arms, unconvinced. "Sure you have."

"I have!" Ron shouted. "Honest! Harry's just being a twat is all."

"Oh, go stick it up your arse," Harry replied lazily.

"At least I'm not the one staying up all night stalking the bleeding hell out of Malfoy," Ron spat angrily.

The sudden change in his demeanour shocked Hermione but it was his words made her spin to face Harry. "We've been over this a _million_ times, Harry! I thought you had stopped."

Harry's eyes narrowed, fixed heatedly on to Ron. "At least _I'm_ not the one so desperate for a girl that I let Lavender Brown shove her minge in my face!"

"Wait, w-what?" Hermione whispered, suddenly struck dumb.

Ron looked stark white, ready to kill, while Harry muttered something under his breath and turned his head away in shame.

"Ron?" she asked quietly.

"It's nothing," he said gruffly, eyes boring holes into Harry's head. "Just drop it, OK?"

Hermione felt her stomach plummet to the ground as time grew to a halt.

Ron had just told her that there was nothing going on between him and Lavender. But Harry's face after his outburst... It was sheer guilt and regret. It was the _truth_. Ron had been playing her the whole time, trying to get into her head and make her feel like she had a chance. She knew it was too good to be true, it always was.

Quickly rising to her feet, Hermione abandoned her half-eaten plate and rushed out of the hall, ignoring the cries of Ron and Harry from behind her. She had been so stupid. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. Of course he wouldn't want anything more from her than friendship, after all, they've been through they were all family now—nothing else. As she raced past the flow of pupils leaving their classes she bumped squarely into the back of a tall, dark figure. Feeling tears drown her eyes, she dropped her head and muttered a short apology before carrying on through the crowd.

"Hey."

A firm hand gripped Hermione's wrist as she tried to leave.

"Hermione, what's wrong?"

Hermione sniffed and wiped her eyes with her free hand, looking up and into the worried eyes of Ginny Weasley.

"Come on," she said, tugging Hermione towards a door a few paces from where they were standing in the corridor.

Hermione let herself be taken into an empty classroom, the ringing chatter of people drowning out as the door closed behind them. The room was dark and dusty with piles of old books scattered about. Hermione's vision became lost in the blackness while she heard rustling over her shoulder.

" _Lumos maxima!_ "

A bright burst of light shone from the tip of Ginny's wand as she held it high above them both.

"Now." She spun around, suddenly morphed into a spitting image of her mother. "What's the matter, Hermione?"

That was enough to break the dam within Hermione as she let out a choked sob and crumbled into a heaping mess.

"This is a boy, am I right?" Ginny said sympathetically as she wrapped her arm around Hermione in a tight embrace. "I recognise the signs."

"It's so _dumb!_ " Hermione laughed as tears ran down her face. "I don't even know why I'm acting this way—it makes no sense! I don't think my body knows how to respond to this level of stupidity."

"It's just how we are, Hermione," Ginny murmured, rubbing her back. "It's a natural feeling. I should know..."

Hermione could tell Ginny was itching to speak, so she pushed her emotions aside and listened.

"It's Dean," Ginny muttered with a dismissive flick of her hand. "He's great and all but I can't help but think he wants me to be this prissy little princess that he can take care of. It's really insulting actually, I mean, why can't he let me pay for things every now and then? I just want to make _him_ feel special for once, is that too much to ask?"

Hermione let her ramble on. Obviously Ginny had a lot going on in her life too that she needed to figure out and Hermione could relate all too well. It was at times like these when she became aware of how little friends she truly had. Sure, the Gryffindor house was her home away from home but she had never really bonded with anyone outside of Harry and Ron. Ginny had been a consequence of becoming entangled in Ron's life, one she was deeply thankful for, but she was a year younger and had her own groups to hang out with since she was incredibly popular and well-liked. When she boiled everything down, she only had two real friends... Who had been the cause for her meltdown and left her in this rather pathetic state.

The cold dawn of realisation pulsed inside of her, making her want to break down all over again.

"Buggering hell! I'm so sorry!" Ginny gasped and blushed, dipping her head as she finally caught herself. "I shouldn't be talking about me, that's so selfish. Screw my issues, _you're_ the one in need of comforting here!"

"No, it's fine." Hermione smiled weakly. "Really—it's helping me get my mind off... Things."

"The whole point of this is," Ginny continued strongly, her gaze fiery and firm. "That you are way better than _any_ guy who thinks they have a shot with you, all right? Don't think any less of yourself just because some dickhead isn't smart enough to see that you're amazing. Everyone knows you're the best witch in the school and will soon know that if they mess with you, I'll kick their arse. That's a Weasley guarantee!"

Hermione couldn't contain the small giggle that escaped her lips. The image of Ginny taking down Ron because he had broken her heart was something she was almost tempted to make happen. She wiped her eyes as a surge logical reasoning soon took over her.

"You're right," she said firmly. "Thanks, Ginny. I don't know what came over me."

"Remember." Ginny's eyes flashed as bright as her flaming hair. "I will beat any guy down, just give me a name and that tosser is dead."

Hermione rolled her eyes playfully and the two left the classroom and walked through the now deserted hallway. She couldn't admit that she was a hundred percent better, but she this was certainly an improvement.

"Snape's gonna get his knickers in a twist when I walk in _this_ late," Ginny grunted, staring out the window nearby. "It's a really nice day too... Why does this have to happen to me?"

"If you go now he might only take a thousand points from you," Hermione joked.

"He's such a wanker," Ginny muttered. "See ya, Hermione!"

Hermione waved as Ginny sulked away then checked her watch. There was still a fair amount of time before her first class of the day and decided to spend it in the library, away from distraction, noise and people... Solely Ron. She sighed and began her journey along the twisted corridors of the Hogwarts castle, her mind wandering alongside her legs. She couldn't explain how or why she had acted like a silly little girl over Ron's presumed relations with Lavender, especially after she had been doing so well her emotions since her night of detention, and needed to find a way to constrain herself in the future. She searched desperately for some part of her to find the strength needed to make her worries disappear and without realising it, her head soon drifted to Professor Snape.

She had come to recently admire the man, somewhat, for his ability to stay stoic and in control at all times, this year was a particular stand-out display of his skill. Despite Harry acting just as stubborn and callous as usual and having the all the Gryffindor students spit at him behind his back, he never let himself loose—always composed, unlike her. Throughout the night of detention, Snape no indication of discomfort or disturbance of any kind, yet she _knew_ that he had. Even if it was only a fraction of what she had experienced, it was still there. And she could never understand why.

Hermione made her way to the library with no further thought of the day's prior events, determined to focus plainly on her studies.

The rest of the day was spent ignoring Ron and avoiding Harry's guilty gaze while she silently finished her classes on her own. Herbology was fine, she had managed to refrain from receiving bloody cuts and scrapes from the Venomous Tentacula though a fireball or two managed to singe the fine hairs off her arms. Potions had tested her limits in more ways than one. She had moved herself away from the boys yet again, unfortunately she occupied the table right next to the cauldron containing the potion Armortentia and thus the scent of freshly-cut grass, new parchment and the same soapy smell she inhaled when hugging Ron had driven her so mad that she had to beg Professor Slughorn to remove it from the room completely. Then Harry, and his newfound "natural talent" for potions had used the ridiculous textbook by the mysterious Half-blood Prince to ace every task Slughorn set—thankfully, he at least had the decency to remain humble. However, their Charms lesson was the final blow.

Hermione and Ron were paired together as they were practising Non-Verbal spells, just like in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and had to silently deflect simple and harmless charms cast by the partner. She had taken the term 'simple' to mean in context to her own abilities and cast an especially powerful full body-bind curse. It was so strong that only Professor Flitwick could undo it. When it was her turn to defend, Ron had decided to be clever and use _Rictusempra_ on her. Unable to form a wordless shield, she had been reduced to tears as her body was tickled mercilessly by invisible feathers while Ron took her laughter as a sign of everything being well between them again. She had never felt so angry in her life.

By the time she arrived at the Slug Club supper, the sun had long since departed and Hermione was a fuming pile ready to erupt. It didn't help that she had been squished beside Blaise Zabini, who looked entirely unimpressed and marginally disgusted when she took her seat, and, of course, McLaggen. He had all but leered as she sat and tried to grab her hand so often she had to shuffle over towards Zabini, an evident expression of repulsion building on his sharp features as she did so. After McLaggen had leaned over one too many times and whispered something so foul she almost slapped him right there and then, Hermione said her farewells and excuses and promptly left without a backward glance.

How could everything have gone so _wrong_ today?

Exhausted and exasperated in equal measures, Hermione staggered to the Gryffindor tower in order to wait for Ron and begin their patrol. But to her surprise, he was already there waiting for her instead.

"Hey," he greeted with forced positivity.

Hermione immediately turned and walked back towards the portrait hole.

"W-Where you going?" Ron asked as he trundled behind her.

"To do my job," she replied shortly.

"Wait up!" he called out as she exited the common room as quickly as she entered it.

The two walked in complete silence through the dark halls, only their wands and the odd torch providing any source of light.

"Hermione," Ron started. "Please talk to me, tell me what's wrong. I'm sorry, OK? Why are you making such a big deal over this?"

Hermione paused, moving her wand to the left and spotting a couple, boy and girl both in blue and both seeming to be third or forth years, entangled heavily with one another. It took a moment for either to register the light now illuminating them but once they did their faces were fixed with terror.

" _Twenty points each from Ravenclaw!_ " she screeched, scowling at their retreating figures as they rushed away.

"Hermione?" Ron repeated, his voice slightly wavering.

Hermione spun around, sticking her wand in his face. "What!"

"Why are you so bloody angry all of a sudden?" he gasped, jerking backwards to avoid being stabbed in the eye.

"Because, Ron," she snapped. "You _lied_ to me. How can you expect me to be fine with that?"

"Fucking hell," he groaned aggressively. "It _doesn't_ matter! Why won't you believe me?"

Hermione's fists clenched tightly, the stream of light flickered across his face as her hand shook. "Why won't you be _honest_ with me? I already know you and Lavender did something, Harry's face told me everything. So, stop being a goddamn child and _tell_ me!"

"Fine!" Ron threw his arms up. "You want honesty then! We shagged, alright? We fucked around at the end of last year. There, you happy now?"

Hermione didn't know whether to cry or vomit or both.

"Wasn't any good though, mind you," he muttered then suddenly scrunched his face angrily. "Know what? I got a question for _you_ , Hermione—why do you even care so much? I'm not your fucking boyfriend, in case you didn't remember, so why are you losing your tits over this?"

This was it, the moment she had been fearing since she starting to have feelings for him. He had never, nor will he ever, see her as any more than a friend. He couldn't see the obvious, as usual, and couldn't see how much she wanted to be with him. So, she did the only thing that she could.

She ran.

Ron's shocked and ashamed voice rang out but Hermione ignored him. She continued running, down the corridor, through the twists and turns of the castle, up a flight of stairs—desperate to leave Ron behind, leave his words behind, leave her feelings behind in the blank nothingness of the night. Her vision became spotty and unfocused as tears blurred her surroundings. The sharp inhales and exhales matched with the irregular dull patters of her feet against the cold stone floor made it impossible for her to understand where in the shadowy depths of the castle she was scattering to. She didn't care.

Soon the rush of blood pumping through her veins was the only sound she could make out. There was no source of light anywhere around, the last torch she remembered was back with Ron. Her hands were shaking so badly and her mind so far gone in the depths of near insanity that she couldn't even begin to attempt a spell. A new wave of anger came over her as she realised how pathetic, how weak, how _useless_ she really was. She had been doing so well, but obviously, not well enough. If Ron, the good-natured yet impossibly, infuriatingly, immeasurably dense and thick-head boy didn't want her, who would?

If not Ron, then no one.

A sudden streak of white light shone brightly before her, followed by the one person who could manage to make everything worse. Long black hair, a beak nose and two endless holes for eyes peering down at her.

"Of course _you're_ here!" She laughed mirthlessly, waving her arms around and an erratic manner to the figure in front of her. "The tip of the goddamned iceberg! Here you are, going to ruin my life again, as usual! Typical! Are you stalking me or something?"

"Miss Granger," Snape said warningly but Hermione was too far lost in enraged insanity to listen.

Her chest was heaving with unrestrained rage and contempt to everything around her, heart pulsing so strongly it was as if someone had reached inside and squeezed with all their might. She let go of every last shred of dignity and allow herself to delve into a frantic frenzy.

"Did you track me down, follow me around just to berate me? You wanna tease me and tear me down like you always do?" she cried hysterically. "Tell me I'm being stupid? Is that it? Well, guess what! I _am_ stupid, a stupid little girl who never knows when to shut her mouth. A know-it-all brat that spends all her time reading books but is clueless when it comes to anything other than reciting fact after fact! Isn't that right, _Snape?_ "

Her voice echoed off the walls, shrill and lone, while Snape just stared at her.

His face was as detached as usual. Except for his eyes. They transformed before her and shifted to silky shadows, dancing in the light of the wand. They sent wild sparks of energy through her, a mixture of trepidation, alarm—mysterious darkness mounting into something she couldn't even begin to understand. It was unlike anything she's seen before. It was... _Exhilarating_. The urge to flee burned and begged in her mind but she was anchored by his heavy gaze and, she was hesitant to believe, didn't actually want to leave. She was utterly taken by the confusing connection formed and couldn't let it end so soon. But before she knew it, it was gone and she was left gazing in the endless black pools of the professor's shielded eyes.

She could only imagine what thoughts were flitting through his head and barely comprehend the ones flowing through hers.

 _'What's happening?'_ Panicked thoughts rushed to the forefront of her mind. _'I shouldn't be feeling this way_ — _I shouldn't be_ acting _this way. Not to a professor_ — _not to Snape, of all people!_ _Oh no, oh no...'_

"I'm so, so sorry, professor!" Hermione began, hoping her plea would save her from immediate expulsion. "I-I—"

"Follow me, Miss Granger," Snape interrupted smoothly, not at all disturbed by her behaviour. "I will take you back to your common room. I can see you're quite upset and quite lost, so much so that I believe I can forgive your behaviour for tonight."

Thankful, Hermione nodded silently and followed the flittering tails of Snape's robes as he lead her through the corridors. She felt oddly drained, her mind drained of energy for some unknown reason, she had been upset, disappointed, rejected before but this was another feeling entirely. As they walked, a haunting realisation pierced through her.

Snape was a Legilimens.

From the limited things Harry had told her during his time training Legilimency with the professor last year, Hermione understood enough to know that Snape had indeed read her mind. The prolonged eye-contact, the lack of mental walls, the intensity of emotions running through her—he knew. A cold sheet of dread covered her heart as she followed him up the stairs of Gryffindor tower. How much did he really see? Did he know that she ran away from Ron? Did he feel the sharp pain of loss and jealousy that coursed through her? How will he react in the morning? Will he even mention it or will he never let her forget her moment of weakness? How will she ever look him in the eye again?

By the time the final thought settled within the deep pit inside of her stomach, Snape had stopped suddenly and turned. Hermione found herself looking up at his face, the wand between them and casting strong shadows across his features.

"Sleep well, Miss Granger."

The look was back. His eyes once again morphing into a swimming silhouette of... Something she still couldn't place. The same blend of enticing emotions building inside of her as she tried desperately to keep her mind blank. He was directing her behaviour and feelings with only a stare, controlling her body as she stood in feverish fright. There was something off about his gaze, however, something different from last time. It was more deliberate, less wild and fierce like an untamed animal and more like a powerful command, a purposeful act. Her heart pounded, stronger and stronger, and she could hear the blood pumping through her veins. It was overwhelming and disorientating, she felt as if she were going to collapse but something beyond his eyes was holding her upright.

She blinked, and he was gone.

Pitch blank darkness swallowed her as the soft patter of steps trailed away. She let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding as she recited the password to the Fat Lady. A few six and seventh-year students were settled by the low-burning fire with stacks of books and mountains of parchment beside them. Hermione rubbed her eyes and looked to the spiral staircase leading to the dorms. She couldn't stand to be around Lavender at the moment, she didn't know how she would react to seeing her after Ron's confession and didn't want to run the risk of losing herself again.

Instead, she walked over and curled up in the over-stuffed chair left abandoned by the other students and gazed lazily at the dull orange embers. Their soft chatter mixed with the warm glow lulled her to a dreamy trance. She couldn't find it in herself to sleep, but this was exactly what she needed after everything she's gone through today. Memories and thought flicked in and out of her head, eventually blending together and making it impossible to distinguish between reality and fantasy. But she knew one thing for certain.

Snape had let her see inside of his mind.


	5. Ch 5 - Prey

**lol im not dead yet**

* * *

"So, Granger, given any thought to my proposal?"

"Please, just leave me alone."

"I'm not going anywhere until you say yes."

"Then you're going to be standing here for the rest of eternity, McLaggen."

Hermione ducked and slipped under McLaggen's arms which were stationed either side of her as his body forced her to slink up the stone wall of the hallway in order to ensure no physical connection between them.

"C'mon, don't be like that." He chuckled and ran a hand along her back.

Hermione whipped around, wand shoved up against his cheek. "Do __not__ touch me!"

McLaggen laughed again and pushed the wand away. "I won't bite. Unless you like it."

Hermione's breathing became uneven as white-hot fury flashed from head to toe. Her arm, however, was steely strong as she opened her mouth, ready to curse the smirk off the boy's face when a voice not her own spoke instead.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger."

Snape stood behind her, closed face and sharp voice cracking through her mind.

" _What?_ " Hermione exclaimed, shock overpowering her rage. "What do you __mean__ five points?"

"You're right." Snape gave her a look so cold, she half-expected to see Harry magically standing in her place. " _ _Ten__ points from Gryffindor for unlawful and threatening use of magic."

Hermione gaped at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish though no sound left her lips as Snape turned and stalked swiftly away from her and McLaggen.

"What a fucking bellend," McLaggen huffed.

She hated herself for agreeing with him.

Ever since Hermione's last Prefect patrol, now a near fortnight ago, everyone had been acting so... Off. At first, they left her alone as if they knew what had happened with Ron that night—it wouldn't surprise her if he told everyone about it anyway. Hermione swore Lavender was following her everywhere she went, gloating gleefully once her head was turned. Ron had maintained the decency to leave her alone, most likely in order to save his skin from her wrath than to spare her feelings which was appreciated on some minor level. What she didn't like, nor understand, was why Harry had been avoiding her as well. She always knew that he and Ron shared a better connection than with her, however, after what Ron had done she couldn't help but feel a stab of sorrow at the sudden neglect, especially since McLaggen was pouncing on her every chance he got.

Then there was Snape.

It became impossibly clear that he was taking her outburst to heart and was hell-bent on exercising his power as a professor whenever possible. Even if he never mentioned it, it was the only plausible possibility for his actions as of late. She had yet to receive another detention, thankfully but could sense it drawing near, looming over her like a living storm. Something was coming, she just had no idea what it was or how to prepare.

As the remains of the professor's black robes disappeared around a corner, Hermione's attention had unfortunately been grabbed once more by the irritating Gryffindor before her. Confident that Snape would not return so suddenly, she raised her wand once more and spat out a fierce Langlock jinx, watching with glorified glee as McLaggen's tongue attached itself firmly to the roof of his mouth. Hermione took his pitiful attempts of speech as her chance to escape, fleeing as fast as she could down the staircase leading to the main entrance and into the Great Hall. Being just shy of the lunch hour, the hall was fairly busy with a steady buzz of chatter filling the air. Now mentally drained from the events prior, Hermione wandered off towards the nearest seat within the long red table in the right corner, watching as Ginny and Dean were snuggled together further along the row and smiled to herself.

At least someone was enjoying the sweet company of love and affection.

Hermione sat down and grabbed an orange, peeling it in short and methodical movements as her mind drifted. She had eventually managed to calm down over Ron and his silly, childish, moronic behaviour, coming to the realisation that he was just as confused as her when it came to love. Was it even love? Perhaps that was too strong of a word as Hermione often thought of the reality of actually being in a relationship with one of her best friends. They were incredibly different, too contrasting, and needed Harry around to balance out their energies. She needed cool, calm, and quiet and he was anything but. While Ron was caring and loyal in his own way, he was still a teenage boy with a sharp temper and loose tongue. In all honesty, if they did date, Hermione doubted it would last very long—at least at this point in their lives. Give it time and maybe...

 _ _'Stop it,'__ Hermione scolded herself. __'Don't get your hopes up again. Let it be, Hermione. Let it be.'__

She plopped a piece of orange into her mouth and chewed slowly, letting her eyes scan across the room.

The Hufflepuff table was now completely full, packed to the brim with black and yellow students, resembling a rather odd bumblebee hive. Ravenclaw and Slytherin, in contrast, was stark and barren. Hermione assumed the older students were studying and the younger ones were busy exploring or serving time in detention. Her own table was slowly losing seats as students entered one by one. Her gaze met Lavender's for a flickering fraction and she was happy to feel nothing as the other girl quickly spun around to talk to whoever it was beside her. Perhaps Hermione could survive this after all.

As if destined to prove her wrong, a hand fell upon her shoulder and twisted her around.

"Hermione!"

She was suddenly lifted off her seat and into the air as the familiar scent of plain soap filled her nostrils.

"Wha—Ron?" she gasped.

Still held tight in Ron's embrace, she tried to wiggle free but to no avail.

"I'm so bloody sorry, Hermione," Ron began, words blubbering out of him at a remarkable pace. "I know I'm an arse and I know you should hate me but I just needed to say how sorry I am, really Hermione, I don't know how I could've been so thick and Harry told me to stay away and leave you alone but I couldn't stand knowing you hate me for being a twat and I completely get it if you never want to see me again but I just—"

Completely stunned by his blabbering confession, Hermione stilled her frantic motions and interrupted him in the clearest voice she could muster.

"Ron, stop it." She pushed against his chest, relieved to finally be released. "It's OK, __I'm__ OK, _w_ _ _e're__ OK. OK?"

"Wow," Ron laughed nervously. "You're really fine with it all?"

"Yes, Ron," Hermione continued in the same direct tone though with more warmth. "I'm over it. I promise."

She didn't know where the words were coming from. As she spoke, a hot flare of shame ran through her as if she were lying, yet, it felt right to say them. Perhaps, deep down, she was actually at peace. Besides, with everything going on in her life at this moment, she really needed her friends back. For good this time.

"I'm the luckiest bloke in the world!" Ron barked, a beaming grin on his face.

"So," Hermione said slowly. "You said Harry told you not to see me?"

"Oh, yeah." Ron nodded. "He said you needed space and needed time to calm down and stuff. I didn't want to, but I guess he was right!"

"He seems to be taking his own advice then," Hermione murmured under her breath.

"What's that?" Ron asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Well... He's been avoiding me too," Hermione explained with a small wave of her hand. "Haven't talked to him in a while, not since __that__ night."

Ron's faced dropped.

"I'll talk to him," he said, sudden emotion flooding his features.

Hermione was taken aback by the rise in Ron's rage. What was going on between them?

"It's fine, Ron—" she started but was cut off.

"How _dare_ that git leave you all alone?" he spat. "For what? A week? Two? What a tosser!"

Completely dumbfounded, Hermione couldn't collect her thoughts and let Ron continue in his rant.

"Right when you needed someone, he ran away, abandoning you when all this shit came crashing down on your head!" Ron heaved, his chest rising and falling in anger. "When you're at your absolute worst, where is he? Off fucking around doing Merlin knows what!"

As Ron carried on in his verbal assault towards Harry, Hermione instantly understood that there was something deeper going on between the two boys. She could not for the life of her figure out what it was, but then again, she had been isolated from them for most of the year so far—for one reason or another. Whatever it was, she needed to sort it out. For the sake of their friendship and the security of the Wizarding World.

"Ron," she said sternly, cutting him off in a clean strike. "Is everything alright between you and Harry?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," he replied gruffly, taking a seat and filling a plate with anything he could get his hands on.

Hermione sighed. She would have to find the source of the troubles on her own, it seemed.

With the subject dropped and food filling his mouth, Ron's attitude grew lighter and soon he was blathering on about coursework and assignments and Quidditch and anything else that popped into his head it seemed. Hermione let him speak, happy to be able to listen and connect with him again. In moments like these, she could forget about all the daunting aspects of life and just enjoy the ride, enjoy the time she had in peace and be a regular teenager once more. So she sat, smiling, occasionally nodding and agreeing while Ron carried on with more vigour than she's ever seen. He must've missed her as much as she missed him.

Before she knew it, the hour flew by. In between sandwiches and laughter, Hermione's eyes flicked towards the large clock hanging at the front of the room and squeaked lightly.

"We have five minutes to get to Herbology!" She hastily drained the last few drops from her goblet and turned to stand, only to be stopped by Ron who had jumped to his feet and held his arm out for her to grab.

"What are you doing?" she asked with a quizzical expression.

"Treating you proper," he responded, shaking his arm expectantly. "C'mon, Hermione. I wanna make it up to you, done right this time."

Against her better judgment and the growing sensation of butterflies racing around in her stomach, she smiled and gripped the outstretched arm, a jolt of surprise shooting through her as the arm was much more solid than she was expecting. Watching his face carefully, Hermione saw the extra effort Ron was putting in making sure he was flexing in the most natural way possible and, being Ron, it was obvious he was doing it on purpose. Not wanting to cause a scene or dissuade from the new chivalrous act, she kept her mouth shut and let him lead her out of the hall and through the corridor.

As they walked, Ron developed an odd habit of pulling her towards him when other people were around like he was making sure no one would touch her. She had yet to tell him about McLaggen's vile attempts at asking her out, not wishing to have Ron expelled for physical assault or worse, and really had a difficult time figuring out just what he was doing or why he was behaving so strangely. His behaviour only increased in intensity as they left the castle and wandered through the grassy ground towards the greenhouse, students already lining up and looking slightly apprehensive though there was no sight of Harry anywhere. Any thought of her other best friend absence vanishing as they approached the growing line, understanding why everyone looked so frightened.

"This is about as worse as those sodding skrewts," she heard Ron mutter as they entered the classroom.

They were still working with the Venomous Tentacula, something Hermione was deeply disheartened by as she's had less than stellar experiences with the most recent lesson resulting in being taken from behind and left dangling by her ankles, ready to be thrown feet into the air if not for Professor Sprout slicing the tendril off. This time, however, it seemed as if Ron was her saviour because he wouldn't let her go anywhere near the plant, the tools, or even the freshly grounded soil.

"I remember what happened last time, Hermione," he reasoned with a tone verging on condescending. "I don't wanna take any chances again."

"Ron," Hermione stated firmly. "It's __my__ decision. I appreciate your concern, but this is going a little far, don't you think?"

He gave her a hurt look, forcing her to let go of her irritation and let him try to steer her clear of anything that might cause pain and as a result was basically pushed into the corner with Ron standing guard, wand at the ready.

"Mr Weasley?" Professor Sprout asked with a note of annoyance. "What are you doing? Let Miss Granger through this instant or else—"

Whatever the professor was going to say left her mind as a loud cry from the opposite side of the greenhouse rang through like a bell. Rushing to save the student caught by the plant, she abandoned the Gryffindor pair and seemed to forget them for the remainder of the lesson.

To put it nicely, the lesson was the most boring, mentally draining, infuriating thing she's encountered since... Well, since she first became friends with Ron.

The time dragged on as if Hermione's will was the only thing making the seconds turn to minutes, but eventually, the hour was brought to a close and Ron all but carried her out of the greenhouse. He was oddly amendment in walking her to Ancient Runes, even though she knew he had a free period and would probably enjoy eating, sleeping, flying—doing anything other than walk into the hidden corner of the castle where the small and under-used room sat. She reluctantly agreed and the two travelled in joint silence. When they finally made it, Hermione felt his eyes follow her as she entered the class as if to make sure nothing was about to grab her in the split second he wasn't paying attention.

She understood that he was trying to make up for the child he'd been acting like lately, but this was beyond helpful. Being kept far away from the professor, the rest of the class, and the actual plant they were supposed to be studying made it difficult for her to see the bright side of the situation. It just meant she had even more to catch up on during her study periods in the library, one more step behind. She couldn't help but think back to Ginny complaining about Dean and how he would always treat her like a helpless princess in constant need of protection and saving. Thinking back to it, she was able to draw many correlations between her and Ron and Ginny and Dean, except Ginny and Dean are dating while her and Ron are nothing more than friends. Unless...

"Oh my god..." Hermione raised a hand to her mouth. "No... No, he couldn't be... Could he?"

Was Ron trying show that he was boyfriend material?

"Miss Granger, are you alright?" Professor Babbling asked pointedly.

Shaking her head free of the unnerving notion of Ron attempting to prove himself worthy, she flashed a smile and took her seat without another word.

The lesson went by in a contrasting blur to the previous one, snippets of hydras, salamanders, crosses and slashes filtered through her head as she left the dingy room. Her heart had been hammering away as her thoughts drifted back to Ron and as she analysed his every action, intentional and otherwise, desperate for a concise result. When none came to her, she instead forced it to the back of her mind and quickly crossed corridors in order to get to her final and most dreaded course of the day—Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Whatever weird virus that had been inhabiting Snape to make him more bearable and, overall, a more decent human being was effectively killed off at this point.

No matter what she did, he always seemed to be there, ready to attack. If she got an answer wrong, couldn't execute a spell perfectly on the first try or looked at him longer than a second, he would come out and strike her down. She had grown somewhat self-conscious ever since her outburst, feeling his eyes follow and criticise her every move. It appears as if he had completely reverted back to his old ways. To top it all off, she could never seem to shake off the piercing gaze he gave her that night, nor the knowledge that he allowed her to see more than ever before and that scared her more than anything.

Relieved to have beaten Ron to the classroom, she scouted around in hopeful search of the familiar messy black hair. Yet again, Harry was missing. The urge to leave and find her lost friend was strong but the need to survive the year was even stronger. Defence was still her worst subject, she hadn't been able to complete any task set so far—though, to be fair, no one else had either as Snape had a tendency to set damn near impossible goals for his students no matter the subject. Regardless, it was still a spot of shame in her heart and something she was determined to rectify.

Like usual, the door suddenly flew open and the shuffle of footsteps inched inside the gloomy room. Hermione was one of the last to enter and be seated, but there was no sign of Ron still. Concern gnawed at her as she continuously twisted her gaze over her shoulder and towards the door. Before long, her worry vanished as pounding steps came rushing inside and grabbing everyone's attention.

"Detention, Weasley," Snape drawled lazily, flicking his eyes briefly over the furious freckled features as Ron stumbled into the class. "For tardiness and a generally irritating presence."

The Slytherins all snickered in sick synchronisation. Hermione saw as Ron opened his mouth, only to be swiftly interrupted by Snape once again.

"Sit yourself down before you make an even greater fool of yourself," he finished sternly.

Hermione watched out of the corner of her eye as Ron threw himself into a chair. If she listened carefully enough, she could hear the soothing whispers of Lavender though and a stab of jealousy pricked at the edge of her chest. Her attention was soon brought back to the front of the room as Snape addressed everyone.

"Today we will be going back to non-verbal casting, as no one has yet to actually accomplish such a basic concept," he added with a sneer.

Another wave of shame hit her hard as Hermione dropped her gaze, staring blankly the scratched surface of the desk.

"In order to ensure this mediocrity is no longer continued, the pairs are as follows." Snape waved his wand at the empty blackboard.

White letters formed instantly as if pasted there within the blink of an eye. Hermione heard the mutters and mentions of names from students around her as they found themselves and who their pair was. Groans soon shot from all areas of the room and while the occasional yelp of joy echo, none could match the screech of sheer euphoria emitted from Lavender. Hermione's eyes soon found the cause of the horrendous noise.

Of course Lavender and Ron were partners.

She shot a glare towards Snape, though when his back was to her, and then shifted to Lavender who had Ron's hand in her own and was gazing at him like he was the answer to all her problems. Ron looked down at her and smiled, however, sharply wrenched his hand away when he caught a glimpse of Hermione staring at them. The smile was wiped clean, replaced with a forced frown which made Hermione's insides flare with repulsion. He was clearly enjoying Lavender's attention, so long as Hermione wasn't around.

 _ _'You—You absolute... Dickhead, Ronald Weasley!'__ she hissed inside her head. _'_ _ _How__ dare __you—! How__ could __you—after all this time, you're only pretending? I'm going to murder you!'__

She snapped her head back to the front, knuckles white with furry as she squeezed them together in her lap. She was shaking, she knew but didn't move in fear of launching herself over towards the boy who betrayed her and clawing his eyes out. She had never had such violent thoughts before but now they were pouring out like water through a dam, sliding and merging together until it was nothing more than a flood of emotions. She just had enough self-control not to scream until her voice was raw, but her skills were quickly put to the test as a deadpan voice met her ears.

"Do you feel as if you do not need to practice your skills, Miss Granger?"

Blinking away the tears, Hermione sniffed and forced her head up to stare into the shadowy pools of the professor's cold stare.

"No, professor," she gritted through her teeth.

Snape cocked an eyebrow. "Then why have you failed to participate?"

"I'm not up there," Hermione retorted, pointing to the blackboard that had lacked the neat print of her name. "You seemed to have forgotten me."

"That wasn't the answer to my question, Miss Granger," Snape seethed. "Seeing as you think yourself more advanced than the rest, perhaps you would like to show your __talents__."

Hermione froze in fear. She had no idea what he was going on about, but it wasn't good.

"Get up," he ordered. "Draw your wand. Attempt to disarm me, Miss Granger."

She looked up at him. "E-Excuse me, professor?"

"I have told you, I do not like to repeat myself," Snape growled. "Do it, now."

Slowly, she got to her feet. She flinched as Snape stuck his wand up at her, watching as the spells cast themselves behind the curtain of his eyes and before she could react, her feet were fused to the ground. No matter what she did, they would not budge. She swayed in all directions but was physically incapable of falling over.

"Disarm me, Miss Granger," Snape repeated, raising his wand yet again.

She had only managed to get her wand past her hips when another flash hit her, this time turning her legs into stone.

"N-No!" she gasped and turned her wand down to her lower half. " _Reparifors!_ "

The grey stone melted away to reveal her normal shade of skin. She huffed a sigh but was soon stiff once more as she faced the professor.

"You will see me after class, Miss Granger," Snape said in a strangely steady voice.

Hermione knew better than to argue, taking the punishment as is and nodding meekly. Thankfully, it seemed to be enough as Snape turned away from her, but not before one last quip.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for blatant disregard for instructions."

She collapsed back into her seat, head in hands as she waited for time to pass while a pit grew in her stomach.

For now the third time today, Hermione had been positioned to endure yet another lesson—once the highlight of her youth, now nothing more than a nuisance and source of nerves. As she sat, anger began to churn inside of her like a volcano expected to erupt. This year had thrown everything at her while simultaneously tying her hands behind her back, forced to face disappointment and heart-ache face on over and over. Her love of learning, gone. Her friends, fleeting. Her own self and stability, wavering at best. Thread-bare and loosely crafted, she was at risk of completely falling apart and had no idea how to put herself together. Despite being in a room full of people, some of which she's grown up with and would confidently call friends, she's still felt so isolated and alone.

The dark and depressive cloud stationed overhead as the minutes flicked by, growing heavier and heavier with each passing tick.

Just as Hermione was ready to throw in the towel and leave her pending punishment, Snape sharply dismissed the class and the rushing noise of students hurrying to safety. Holding her breath and readying her defences, she faced the professor.

"Miss Granger, your attitude and actions have been rather poor as of late," He began with steely dissatisfaction. "You consistently stick your wand in the faces of others, yell obscenities in front of young witches and wizards and as of yet have been unable to perform tasks as simple as a disarming spell."

"That's not fair!" Hermione cried in anguish. "Everything you're saying is taken completely out of context!"

"Once again you manage to fail at the basic task of restraining yourself," he said as if talking to a small child. "Perhaps your title and reputation within this school have gone to your head and you feel as if you are entitled to do whatever you please. If so, you would perhaps be better off stripped from it completely."

"Stop it, just stop it!" Hermione yelled with more passion that she had ever felt in her entire life. "Why do you __always__ have to be such an arse—!"

" _Silence!_ " he snapped firmly.

Hermione's lips were sewn shut at the command.

Snape's eyes flashed as he spoke. "You will not lose your temper around me again, Miss Granger. Ever."

His voice was deeper than ever, a low chesty rumble, yet impeccably even. It sent shivers down her spine but not out of fear. It was something else entirely different and unknown. She couldn't stop herself from twitching as he leaned in and spoke directly to her as if speaking to her soul rather than physical presence.

"You will remember to show respect."

Hermione's heartbeat thundered through her ears, swallowing any other sound. Sweat seeped out from her palms as she gripped her wand tightly, not in fear of an attack but rather as a solid and tangible object to keep her grounded from the strange feelings coursing through her body and mind.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor," he murmured in a tone of finality. "You will now see yourself out, Miss Granger. Good day."

* * *

 **Author's** **Note:** _Hellooo there, welcome back. It is indeed a Christmas miracle._

 _Sorry for the lack of updates, but I did warn this would happen. I just haven't been feeling inspired lately, still not to be perfectly honest, so there will most likely be another large break coming... Soooooorrrrrry._

 _Anyway, I hope you at least enjoyed this chapter :-)_

 **~jj**


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